As long as we're together (does it matter where we go?)
by ZBBZL
Summary: There are already enough threats on Earth without putting his very heart on the front line. But then again, there's no sense in hiding what's been here for longer than he can comprehend or admit. Bellamy/Clarke. Tag fic to 2x05, Human Trials.


**Title**: _As long as we're together (does it matter where we go?)_  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Bellamy/Clarke  
><strong>Timeline<strong>: set during and post-2x05, Human Trials

**A/N**: This is what happens when I fall in love with a show and two idiots. Hope you enjoy. I'd love to know what you think about it. :)

Title from Gabrielle Aplin's _Home_.

* * *

><p>Clarke crept up on him.<p>

Uninvited and unwanted, even hated in the beginning; one moment she was the annoying, righteous, privileged princess, and then she did something totally stupid like smiling at him or telling him she needed and trusted him and she was _his_. It's stupid and dangerous and against his every rule, and Bellamy _knows_ it – there are already enough threats on Earth without putting his very heart on the front line.

But then again, there's no sense in hiding what's been here for longer than he can comprehend or admit. He can't pinpoint the moment – maybe it was when Murphy held a knife to her throat, or when she absolved him of all his sins, or when she fell sick and he thought she might die and realized it scared him, that he couldn't handle it, didn't want to do this _without_ _her_ or even knew how to. Or maybe it was something insignificant, something small like the brush of her fingers, gentle and soothing and electrifying, or the way she said his name, sometimes pleading, sometimes reproachful, but always soft and warm, and then it was no longer insignificant and _she_ was no longer insignificant and _fuck_, he cared about her and there was no going back.

He cares about her. He cares about Clarke, and he definitely doesn't care about her like he does Octavia – and _that's_ something Bellamy doesn't want to think about. Caring is a weakness he can't afford with anyone but his sister, because that's what Clarke does, and he needs to be the dark to her light if they want to survive. She cares too much; that's why he needs to make the tough calls, be the asshole, rule with an iron hand – a sharp shock to her soft side.

But then she's running to him and wrapping her arms around him, clinging to him, molding her body to his in a firm yet gentle hold, and fuck, she's alive and real and solid and strong and beautiful, and to hell with being weak because maybe love is for anyone brave enough to _believe_ in it. It's the first time he allows the word to slip in his mind; when he feels her nuzzling his neck, breathing him in despite the dirt and blood and the lingering scent of all the death around them, a solitary tear dropping on his skin, and he finally hugs her back, holding her impossibly tight, _he_ _can't help it_. Because in that moment her arms feel like home, and he thought he'd lost her and now he's holding her, feeling her chest rise and fall as she breathes, her heart strong and steady as it beats with his, and Bellamy _knows_. He knows that he loves her, and that it's not only because they went through hell together, not just because he's relieved to see her; he loves her because she's Clarke, and with everyone else other than Octavia he is guarded and fearful of showing the rawness of his soul, but not with her, _never_ with her – with her it feels okay to show his wounds because she doesn't call them disasters.

He can't explain it, can't call to reason or logic because love is anything _but_. It's stupid and it's dangerous and against his every rule, and Octavia was supposed to be the only exception.

But maybe it's time to be bolder.

"Now there's something I thought I'd never see," he hears Octavia say, half-amused, half-amazed, and any other time Bellamy would say something back because when did his kid sister become so sassy, but he doesn't pay attention to her at all and neither does Clarke. All that matters in this moment is Clarke and the fact that she's hugging him and he's hugging her and she's alive and he's alive and for just a minute, a brief, fleeting moment, all he can think about is how very glad and _happy_ he is.

It's such a _ridiculous_ thought. Ever since they were sent to Earth, life has been nothing but one nightmare turning into another, and to this day the only good thing Bellamy used to see in any of this living hell was the fact that Octavia was alive and that they were together again, despite all the fights and the hateful words they threw at each other in moments of heat and anger. But now, as Clarke pulls back and looks at him with those eyes, bright and beautiful and filled with hope, there's no denying the warmth that wraps around him because of her very existence.

_Fuck_.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know how it happens. One minute he's telling her that Finn went off looking for her and he almost expects her to lose it right there before he remembers that this is <em>Clarke<em>, his badass princess who might bend but _never_ break, and the next she's sitting him on a bed to patch up his wounds and he's _letting_ her.

He doesn't need it, and they both know it. Bellamy's been through worse – physically _and_ emotionally, if the past days thinking that she and the rest of their people could already be dead and struggling not to break down and let it show in front of the others is any indication – and he's learned to push past his limits by now, so much that it almost doesn't hurt, or at least it's like white noise, just a dull, constant pain that's become a part of him he has to function with. But Clarke's the one needing it; she needs to take care of him because their entire world has once again spiraled out of control and she needs to make herself useful, busy her hands and mind with something else other than worrying about their friends in Mount Weather and Finn and blaming herself for not being able to help Raven or God only knows what other things Clarke can go and worry herself sick over.

Well, God and _Bellamy_.

He wonders when he started knowing her so well; maybe it's because he's no stranger to guilt and regret and doubt and shouldering the weight of the world, or because they're not as different as he initially thought, back to the days when she was more like an enemy than an ally or a friend or whatever she is to him now. Now, though, it feels like he knows her like the back of his hand – and that's why he knows that _this_ is what she needs. So he lets her.

Clarke's _excruciatingly_ gentle as she dampens a cloth in a bowl of water before bringing it to his face, wiping the dirt and blood and cleaning around the cuts, her other hand beneath his chin as she tilts his face to take a better look. It's oddly intimate, the soft, feather-light touch of her fingers against his skin, and combined with the look of concentration and concern and care in her eyes, Bellamy finds himself struggling not to avert his own gaze.

She must feel him tense though, because suddenly her hands are gone and Clarke's frowning and fumbling over an apology. "I'm sorry," she says, and Bellamy almost wants to laugh because _only Clarke_ would apologize over being one of the sweetest, bravest, most caring people he's ever met.

He almost laughs, but then he doesn't because Clarke looks so small and scared and defeated and Bellamy just _can't_ deal with that look in her eyes. Right now, he'd do anything to bring a smile on her face, and he hates himself for not being able to. "Hey," he calls, his voice soft and quiet. It's the voice he used with Octavia when she was a little girl, and kept using even as she grew up to be the strong, brave, fierce young woman she's become – and there's just something in Clarke that brings it out of him. "I'm okay, princess, I really am," he tries to reassure her, the word rolling easily on his tongue, the nickname holding so much more endearment now than in the beginning when he just used it out of spite.

She must know it, _feel_ it in the way he says it, because the corners of her lips twitch up in a small smile – _that's_ a small victory Bellamy will allow himself to appreciate. Clarke resumes her task, even gentler if that's even possible, so careful not to hurt him he just wants to fold her in his arms again and tell her it's okay, everything will be fine now that they're together again because that's how they do their best work. _Together_. As a team, they've accomplished so much more than they could ever have on their own, co-leading their people, complementing each other; they _don't_ need the Ark and the adults trying to play a game whose rules they don't even understand. They can get their people back, just Clarke and he, and they _will_.

Clarke puts down the cloth beside them on the mattress, the fingers of her other hand still faintly lingering over the cut on his cheek. "What else?" she asks, her eyes boring into his, daring him to lie to her – they both know he _can't_. Not with her. Not anymore.

Bellamy sighs, and she's so close that his breath tickles against her face, eliciting the smallest shiver. They don't have time for this, for the inventory of all the wounds Earth has inflicted upon them, not when their people are locked up somewhere and partially blind to the danger they're in, not when Finn and Murphy are looking for her, and Finn is not Finn anymore. And yet he finds himself turning his palms open to her, revealing the scarred skin. Clarke takes one of his hands in both of hers, gently running her thumb over his skin, a dozen questions on the tip of her tongue and fingers.

"Mel, the girl we brought in," Bellamy starts to explain, "We found her by a cliff. Everybody else was dead, and we were ready to move, go look for you and the others, when we heard her scream for help."

Bellamy pauses, swallowing hard. He can't help feeling ashamed for not immediately trying to save her; if he had, then maybe Sterling wouldn't have died. If he hadn't listened to Finn, Finn of all people who had always been so adamant about every life mattering and who now could only think about Clarke, then, maybe…

"Hey," Clarke calls softly, her fingers gently squeezing his in reassurance and comfort. "It's okay. You had no idea where we were, and she was there. You had to help her," she says, her tone soothing and forgiving, always expecting the best of him.

But he can't let her believe that. "No," Bellamy says, shaking his head. He can't tell her that Finn was the one insisting on leaving, because, damn, he's supposed to be the _leader_ and he all but agreed too quickly to leave that girl to her inevitable death in order to go find their friends. _He's_ responsible for Sterling's death, not Finn. "_I_ wanted to leave, but Sterling…He tried to hike down, but then the rope snapped and…" He averts his eyes then, unable to hold her gaze and see the disapproval and blame there. He's been trying so hard to do what's best for their people, but it doesn't matter to those they lost because of him.

"It's not your fault," Clarke says, her voice nothing but a soft whisper, a secret murmured in the minute space between them as she tilts her head to meet his eyes. There's no disapproval, no blame in hers, nothing but understanding and something that strangely looks like gratitude. "Bellamy," she speaks his name like he deserves the faith she has in him, and not for the first time Bellamy feels like it's misplaced, like she has no idea how bad he screwed up and that she shouldn't look up to him the way she does. But that's what Clarke does; she sees the best in people, and she doesn't even have to try to bring it out in them. Around her, he really wants to try to live up to whatever she sees in him. "You saved that girl. You risked your life to save hers. You're not the bad guy here."

She stares at him, her face pale and marred with cuts and scars but still so lovely and _lively_ he has to fight the urge to touch her the same way she does, to make sure this is reality, that she's really here. Clarke holds his gaze, waiting for him to agree with her, so he gives her a little nod. She smiles, a little sheepish, a little shy, and it's a beautiful smile and Bellamy realizes he'll agree with anything she says just so he can make her smile.

_God_, she's turned him into a sap.

She goes back to her inspection of his body; worries about his thigh when he tells her he's had a few muscle cramps on the way back, explains that it must be the rope, that it cut the blood circulation, maybe even sprained something. Her hands wrap around his thigh, her fingers massaging the damaged muscles through his pants, and Bellamy tries his best to be a model patient but he can't help squirming a little as her fingers press and dig into his flesh. Clarke apologizes, _again_, and he tells her he's not going to break, and then she asks if there's anything else and he wants to say no, really, because this is so intimate and he feels so _vulnerable_, letting her take care of him. But at the same time, Bellamy can't deny how good it feels to have someone who's not only willing but who _wants_ to be there, so he tells her about Tristan and how he thought he was going to kill him before Kane stepped in.

She gasps as he lifts the hem of his shirt, revealing black and blue bruises blooming all over his torso and sides from where Tristan kicked him. The hand she'd covered her mouth with falls to his side, his stomach, her own scarred fingers tentatively brushing the bruises, spreading wide on the damaged skin. Some marks are bigger than her hand, and she inhales sharply, her bottom lip starts trembling and her eyes water at the sight of everything he's been through.

_Fuck_. She's crying, _Clarke's crying_ and Bellamy has no idea how to respond to that other than to pull her into him, one hand stroking at her neck while the other rubs up and down her back like he's done a hundred times with Octavia. "Clarke," he whispers her name, his voice soft instead of rough and hoarse. "It's okay. You're okay, I'm okay, and we're gonna get our people back. Okay?" he presses, needing her to agree with him this time.

She's silent for a moment, her ragged breaths and soft sobs the only sounds coming from her, and Bellamy just keeps stroking her back and hair, trying to comfort her, steady her. He needs her at his side if they want to save their friends, but before anything else he needs her to feel better because he can't stand the idea of her being hurt, and maybe it's a weakness, this protective streak of his, but _damn_, he can't, he just can't and he _won't_ stay here and do nothing while she cries.

It lasts a couple of minutes, or maybe an hour, Bellamy has no idea, but it doesn't matter because if Clarke needs him to hold her for an hour, then he _will_. She's always given him absolution when he needed it, and it's his time now to be there for her, because this is what they do. Protect each other. Take care of each other.

When she eventually pulls back, lifting her head up from his chest, her eyes are still puffy and a little red, but the small smile is back on her lips. It's silly and a little bit possessive, but Bellamy feels like it's a secret smile that she uses only for him and it gives him the strength to let go when all he wants to do is hold onto her tight.

"Come on," he says, lifting his hand to her face, wiping a tear with his thumb. Her skin is soft despite the scars, and they're just evidence of how strong she is, how much she's fought for her people, and he wishes they had time so he could map her like she did him, tracing every single scar with his fingers, memorizing them. But they don't. So he smiles at her, and he can feel how soft it is around the edges, just for her. "Ready to be a badass, Clarke?" he asks teasingly, his lips twitching in a smirk.

She gets on her feet and tugs at his hand, leading him to the Council tent.

* * *

><p>He stays behind her as Clarke talks to her mother, watching and pacing. It's pretty obvious to him that Abby Griffin doesn't like him and Bellamy doesn't really care because the feeling is <em>mutual<em>; it's not just her – well, it's _not_, but she and Kane won't ever be his favorite people – but all these Council people who think they can just walk in and take charge when they know nothing about Earth, and who treat them like kids who were just lucky enough to survive until the adults came down.

It's not luck that kept them alive, though. It's Clarke's need to take care of everyone, making her the heart of the hundred; it's Raven's and Jasper's and Monty's wit; and it's even thanks to him, despite what Abby might think. They did it, together, and they don't need anyone to tell them they can't save their friends because Kane's the priority. _They_ have their priorities, too, so when Bellamy finally steps in, it's because he knows he's speaking for both he and Clarke when he says that they can do this, go after Finn and Murphy on their own. It dawns on him in that moment that he thinks of them as a _we_, because that's how they operate, how they've operated for a long time now because that's what their people need from them.

Clarke turns to look at him and nods in agreement, and that's when he knows they're _really_ doing this, no matter what her mother says. As she walks to him after Abby leaves – not without glaring at him like he's responsible for her little girl not taking her bullshit, and, honestly, even if he was he would be proud – he thinks that Clarke is a lot more like her father, despite inheriting her mother's healing hands. He may have not known him, but from what he's heard, fighting for what's right no matter the personal cost is something that Clarke definitely got from him.

He can't help admiring her even more for that.

* * *

><p>He watches them sleep, both his girls. Just a few days ago he didn't even know if they were still alive and now that he's got them back, Bellamy won't dare closing his eyes for fear that they might disappear.<p>

He smiles as he looks at Octavia, and marvels at how young and peaceful his little sister looks in her sleep when she's nothing but a tornado while awake, fierce and strong and mature beyond her years. All he's ever wanted was to protect her but she's bloomed in the fire, her innocence shed in a butterfly field, and Bellamy wishes he could go back in time and be better, but what's done is done. Octavia's no longer a little girl, and she's her own woman before being his little sister and he's going to have to learn to accept it even if it scares the shit out of him. On Earth there's nowhere he can hide her to protect her, and even if Octavia's more than capable of taking care of herself, it will always be his duty as her big brother to be there for her.

His eyes then fall on Clarke, and there's a pang at his heart that keeps him from smiling like an idiot just at the sight of her. He's lost her once, twice, and he can't help feeling like that's all they'll _ever_ do, find each other before losing one another again, and there's only one way this can end. And knowing Clarke, she'll probably do something crazy like die while protecting somebody she cares about and Bellamy just can't accept that. That's the thing about heroes: they're selfless and brave and _stupid_, and even if Bellamy knows it's so hypocritical of him to blame her, even resent her a little bit for it when he would do the same for her, he still does. Because the good ones always die first and Clarke just can't stop putting herself on the front line and, _God_, what is it about the women in his life being so reckless and fiercely protective of those they love?

_He's_ ready to die for the both of them; Octavia's always been his first priority, ever since the moment his mother placed her in his arms and he looked down at her and fell in love. But now, looking at Clarke, he realizes that she's _it_; he's in love with her, and it's a goddamn tragedy because this whole protecting each other thing will end in blood, he just knows it.

Clarke stirs, opens her eyes and looks up at him, and words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Last time I saw you, you were closing the dropship door," he says quietly, and he can see it in her eyes, how guilty she still feels over it, no words needed. It's crazy, how much they can tell each other without speaking, how close they've grown when they started off so badly. "It had to be done," he goes on, mustering all the assurance in his voice, all the gentleness, too. Because he needs her to _understand_. She did what she had to, and he doesn't blame nor resent her; because if one of them has to die, then it has to be _him_, and he needs her to know she made the right call.

It's not enough to appease her and he knows it – sometimes this whole knowing her like the back of his hand thing is a curse – but then she smiles slightly, and maybe that's enough for now, a small sad smile instead of a heated argument where Bellamy knows he won't be able to hold it anymore and probably pin her against the nearest tree and kiss her until he can't tell where he ends and she begins.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

She sits up, and Bellamy decides it's about time he tells her the truth about Finn – other truths can wait. He expects her to defend Finn, to tell him he's wrong, that Finn would never do anything like that, to blame him for letting him go, but she doesn't.

Of course she doesn't.

That's a truth that scares him, that Clarke never blames him even when she should and yet he always expects her to, because Bellamy just doesn't understand _why_, why she gives him absolution and forgiveness and redemption when none of this shit would have happened if it weren't for him.

She says, "I'm sure it had to be done, too," and all he wants to do is scream _I love you_.

Of course, he doesn't.

Maybe, one day, when their friends are not in danger, he will tell her.

But then again, Bellamy perfectly knows this day will never come on Earth.

* * *

><p>Clarke is not the kind of princess that needs saving. But when he sees her taking a step back as Finn walks to her, and then another, he just can't stand there and do nothing when he can feel the fear radiating off of her.<p>

He's never seen her looking this scared.

Bellamy steps in, putting himself in between Finn and her, and he can feel Clarke's body pressing against his as she stands slightly behind him, not completely hiding but still allowing and needing him as a shield. "Clarke," Finn says again, dazed eyes staring at her like she's the sun, completely blind to how scared she looks, and when he takes another step towards her, not seeming to realize that Bellamy stands between them, Bellamy feels Clarke's fingers close around the back of his shirt as she anchors herself to him.

"Finn," he says, his voice calm but firm as he lifts a hand in defense. "You're scaring her. _All of us_, really. You need to take a deep breath."

Finn's eyes meet his in confusion, then Octavia's who's still on the ground, her fingers gently closing the dead kid's eyes. Behind him, Murphy no longer has his rifle trained on the Grounders, but on him. And then Finn looks around him and his eyes widen as if realizing for the first time what he's done.

And then he runs.

Bellamy's about to follow him when Clarke's grip on his shirt tightens, holding him in place. "No, Bellamy," she murmurs, lightly shaking her head, her bottom lip trembling. "Let him go."

Bellamy turns around, and her fingers close around the front of his shirt. He covers them with his hand, squeezing. "We can't leave him on his own right now, Clarke," he says, and he knows that she knows it, but she still looks terrified and Bellamy hates that look on her face because he's already seen it before, once, when she was looking at _him_. Back then it hadn't bothered him, but now it does, because he knows how much Finn means to her and that it's breaking her inside to see what he's become.

Clarke's gaze locks with his, tears gleaming in her pale grey eyes. "I just got you back," she whispers, echoing her mother's words, and fuck, she just can't go around and say things like this if she wants him to do the right thing. And the right thing is to go after Finn, because this is why they've come in the first place.

Lifting his free hand to her face, he cups her face, gently running his thumb over her cheekbone. "He's not gonna hurt me," he says, and Bellamy doesn't really know if it's for her sake of his, because he'd be lying if he said this version of Finn doesn't scare him, too. "But he'll probably get himself killed in this state. We can't let that happen."

He sees the struggle in her eyes, how the fire inside her is flickering because of every loss they've suffered and how she can't add him to the list. But then Murphy steps in and speaks. "I'll go with him, Clarke," he says, and it's a testimony to how much things have changed that it almost seems to reassure her as she nods her head a little, the idea of him going with the guy who tried to kill him.

But then again, it applies to the both of them, so maybe it's time to forgive and forget.

Bellamy shakes his head. "No, you need to stay with them," he tells Murphy, and the underlying message is clear. _Protect them_. Because even though Octavia knows these people, even if she might be able to talk them out of a war, it doesn't feel right leaving them alone after what Finn did. He knows, deep down, that both Octavia and Clarke can hold their own and fight, but this is his little sister and the girl he's in love with, and who can really blame him for being protective over them?

Octavia looks up and gives him a small nod; she understands. Clarke, on the other hand, looks like she's about to argue – when _doesn't_ she, really? – so he doesn't give her the opportunity. Gently unclasping her fingers from his shirt, he starts running in the direction Finn took.

* * *

><p>When he comes back with Finn half an hour later, both wearing their rifles around their shoulders but Bellamy's slightly trained on the other boy, nobody asks about what happened in the woods. Octavia has managed to prevent a war in the meantime, and they don't stick around any longer because if the Grounders look at Octavia, Clarke and Bellamy like there's still hope for an alliance, there's no doubt that they'll never agree with it as long as Finn is with them; they're letting him <em>live<em>, and it's more than they could ever hope for.

They leave, not knowing where to go. Going back to Camp Jaha means trouble for all of them, but going to Mount Weather with an unpredictable Finn sounds just as bad. They settle camp hours later before night falls, still not knowing what to do. Murphy and Octavia go and gather wood for the fire, and Finn just slouches against a tree, hiding his head in his hands.

Clarke doesn't even spare him a glance.

She hasn't left Bellamy's side since he came back. It's natural for them, standing together as leaders, thinking as one, but never before as she looked like she needed him to protect her. It's not the right word; Clarke doesn't need anyone protecting her. But she does look afraid and confused and a little sick, as if the sight only of Finn is enough to shake her to the core; and really, Bellamy can't blame her.

Finn's the peacemaker, the one who insisted so much on violence not being the answer, the one who set up a meeting with Anya to make an alliance – and now he's a mass murderer. There's no other way to look at it; Finn killed innocent, unarmed people, and did them all a lot of harm. It was already bad enough to have the Mountain Men and Reapers against them, but without the Grounders on their side, Bellamy's not sure they can survive. The Ark is filled with morons who think that sending an ambassador to people whose existence they weren't even aware of two days ago is going to work out, and even if he loathes admitting it, who is he fooling when he says five kids can take on Mount Weather on their own?

Well, _four_. Hell, there's no way they're taking Finn there.

Octavia and Murphy come back, and Bellamy helps him with the fire while Octavia starts sharing the rations; Clarke shadows him. He understands her fear, her incomprehension, her disgust even, but at the same time he knows that out-casting Finn is not the solution, especially her. Bellamy doesn't know for sure what's between them; he knows something happened at some point, if the heart eyes and Raven coming to him for revenge is any indication, but what of it now? Clarke's acting like he's not even there.

Night falls, and they decide to take turns taking watch. He volunteers to take the first watch, because finding Finn didn't exactly give him the relief he expected, and Clarke immediately offers to watch with him. Octavia falls asleep quickly despite making them swear to wake her up in a couple hours, physically and emotionally drained after the events of the day; Finn follows, and then Murphy after a nod of his head to Bellamy. There might never be friendship between them, but for now at least, there's trust.

They're both silent for a long time, leaning side by side against a tree, shoulders and hips and legs touching. It's a lot closer than they're used to, but tonight, Bellamy feels like Clarke needs it. Her fist is tightly clenched on her thigh and he reaches for it, running his thumb over her white knuckles.

"This is my fault," Clarke whispers, her gaze dropping to her lap. "If I hadn't closed the dropship door, if I'd tried harder to save you –"

"Then what?" Bellamy asks quietly as he wraps his hand around hers, slowly unclenching her fingers. "Then we'd be all locked up in Mount Weather."

"But we'd be _together_," Clarke counters firmly as she lifts her head up and looks at him with fierce eyes, daring him to argue with her. "And between the two of us, we would have found a way out."

Bellamy sighs, closing his eyes for a second. There's no point in thinking like this – God, how he knows it. He's spent days doing this, replaying the events in his head a hundred times, not even trying to figure out how and where he went wrong but just wishing he could go back in time and change everything – Bellamy doesn't even know how he managed to keep his sanity. But somehow, he _did_, and he has to make sure Clarke does, too.

"We're together _now_," he tells her, hoping he can comfort her. "You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, princess," he says softly. "You can lean on me."

The corners of her lips tug in that small, beautiful smile he knows he will never get tired of seeing light up her face. Slowly, Clarke turns her palm up, and links their fingers together. It's nothing romantic, just a small gesture of comfort and friendship as she anchors herself to him. "So what do we do?" she asks him tiredly, her head dropping to his shoulder. "How do we do this?"

"We're gonna need the Ark," Bellamy admits, knowing she's going to hate it as much as he does. "More people, more guns."

He feels Clarke tense, her fingers tightening around his as she lifts up her head from his shoulder, fear clouding her grey eyes. "My mother will lock us up if we go back," she says, shaking her head. "Or worse."

Bellamy gives her a small smile. "You're just a kid. You all are just kids," he adds, briefly averting his gaze to look at Octavia and the boys. Clarke's mother won't do anything to them; so many people lost their kids, some of them prisoners in Mount Weather, it would cause a riot Chancellor Griffin is not ready to face.

_He_ stopped being a kid a long time ago, though, and there's no one left to fight for him.

Clarke drops his hand, only to grab his biceps with both hands instead as she fully turns to face him. "No," she murmurs, and he knows she knows what he's thinking. "I won't let her do anything to you," she says, stubborn and fierce. "I'm not going back there so she can punish you for doing the right thing. I'm not."

"I can take a few lashes if it means she gives us the manpower to save our people," Bellamy tells her, and when Clarke opens her mouth to argue, he sighs, her name just a breathy exhale. "Clarke. We don't have another choice."

She looks torn between arguing and crying, and honestly, Bellamy can't stand either right now. Clarke's always been the emotional one, and that's why he needs to make the tough calls; if going back to Camp Jaha means punishment for him, then he'll take it. Some sacrifices are necessary, just like when she closed the dropship door on Finn and him and saved the others.

He's about to explain that to her when he feels her fingers on his face and then her lips against his, _and_ _fuck_, _he_ was supposed to be the one doing this. It's a lot gentler than he'd imagined, but no less passionate and a little desperate as her hands drop to his shirt, her fingers curling around the fabric as she draws him closer. Bellamy puts one hand at the back of her head as the other snakes down to her waist, and he pulls her to him, needing her as close as possible after days without her, thinking she was gone, that he'd lost her.

But he _hasn't_, and Clarke's here, and she's kissing him and he's kissing her, and she sighs against his lips and opens up to him and their world is falling apart but for the love of God he can't help the smile that forms against her mouth.

She pulls back first, her breathing a little ragged, a pretty pink flushing her pale skin, her eyes sparking. "We're in this together, okay?" she says as she presses her forehead to this. "As long as we're together, it doesn't matter what happens."

He almost says it, then. That he loves her. But then it dawns on him that Clarke basically just said it, just with different words, beating him to it just like she did with the kiss.

So, instead, he says, "Okay," and kisses her again.

She settles at his side, curling up to him, and they start talking about what they'll do after they save their people. They both agree they can never live with the Ark, not after what they did to them, so when he suggests they start all over again, she says they should follow Lincoln's advice and head to the ocean; anyone who wants to come can, and anyone who wants to stay can, too – but no matter what happens, they're in this together.

Clarke falls asleep soon after, her head on his lap and his fingers gently threading in her hair.

When Octavia wakes up an hour later, she has the good grace not to say anything other than tell him to get some rest with a beaming smile on her face.

* * *

><p><em>the end <em>


End file.
